


That's No Mabari!

by GayNerdJack



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Gen, M/M, Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayNerdJack/pseuds/GayNerdJack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well," Garrett paused, "I guess you could say I'm a bit of a dog person."  </p>
<p>[Fenhawke Week] [Tags, Characters, and Pairings to be added]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Quiet and clear nights in the forest have been his favorite thus far.

He wasn’t opposed to sleeping in something masquerading as a bed in a loud vomit and alcohol scented cheap taverns; he’d done it plenty of times. He just didn’t care for the creaking bed frames of his neighbors, patrons singing loudly until their voices shot, and what he thought were rats scurrying all over his room until the wee hours of the morning. So, a night in the woods was a nice change to the busy life he indulged in more than a few times.

He’d built a fire roughly an hour ago or two ago in a small clearing he’d deemed a fine enough place to camp. It had ample room to sleep comfortably and for the fire, not that he needed much to begin with. Besides, he didn’t really need it so much for warmth but more so for temporary light and to heat up some food. He’d warmed and eaten a can of cheap beans, which were still better than some of the tavern slop he’d had recently. He’d discarded the can and a plastic spoon a few feet away with the intent on worrying about picking them up later.

Sighing, he rummaged through his well-worn rucksack for a few moments before pulling out a beaten up package of cigarettes. He shook it to make sure there were a few left in there before popping it open and pulling one out, discarding the box back into his bag shortly after the fact. He leaned forward and stuck the end into the deteriorating flames until it lit. He pulled it back into his mouth quickly and gently took in a breathful of smoke, exhaling soon after.

He kept the burning cigarette between his fingers while adjusting the beanie on his head. He had actually dressed a little bit more appropriately this time around during his campout, unlike some of his previous endeavours. This time he made sure to wear a large, but not too ridiculously oversized, thick, warm sweatshirt instead of wearing a thin cotton shirt again. He still sported his signature the black skinny jeans and black beanie though, he liked them too much. Freshly added to his look, however, he had a large hand-knit red scarf wrapped around his neck that a kind woman had him at a tavern a few towns back after he burst in shivering. It was pleasantly warm around his neck.

He puffed another cloud of smoke, soaking in all the sounds and lack thereof. The wind rustled the trees around him. The fire gently crackled. He thought he could hear a few bats overhead. It was nice.

It didn’t take long for him to finish his cigarette, which was a small shame. It was a nice relaxant but he doesn’t really need another. He didn’t have enough money to continuously buy them, and besides the one was enough to relax his nerves. He tossed the butt into the flames and watched it slowly burn away into the other ashes of his fire.

He turned his head slowly as he heard the crunching of twigs in the bush next to him. It wasn’t unusual for a raccoon or an opossum to wander into his camp, he was in the woods afterall. He’d just toss that discarded can at it to scare it away. But, he wasn’t at all prepared for the not-so-curious bear that stuck its teeth-bearing mug into his camp. It lumbered quickly through the bushes, growling deeply as it ignored him for the moment and focused itself on the fire in his camp.

He swallowed and slid backwards as quietly as possible, hand gripped tightly on the rucksack. He tried standing up right when the bear turned his gaze onto him. It roared loudly, saliva splattering his face as he gaped in fear. He shuffled to his feet and stepped backwards, not breaking eye contact with the creature. His grip on the bag tightened as he prepared to turn and run when the bear roared again, stepping forward. His hands were visibly shaking and his body felt impossibly heavy, but he knew he needed to get out of there if he wanted to have a chance to survive.

He shifted his feet and he got ready to bolt when another black creature lumbered into his camp.

 _Fuck, another bear?_ He thought, grinding his teeth and looking at the creature.

It was bigger than the bear currently in front of him. Possibly a baby bear and its mother? It looked hairier and it bared visibly sharper teeth than the other creature in front of him. It even had a… long tail? That’s when he noticed it wasn’t a bear at all. In fact, it appeared to be a massive black wolf with bright amber eyes looking straight at him.

It snarled before pouncing on the bear in front of him, redirecting the bear's attention from him towards the wolf. They swiped and snapped at each other and howled in bloodcurdling agony. He really didn’t care to stick around to watch and test his luck. He turned and slipped into the brush, turning once more to catch a glimpse of the bear strike the wolf powerfully across its muzzle. He swallowed as the wolf tumbled backwards and turned its attention onto him for a split second, then back to the bear and lunging forward.

He took that as a hint to run, so he did just that. He ran as quickly and as far as legs would take him. It seemed like hours that he was running, but the stars were still high in the sky and they didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon. So in reality, it couldn’t have been too long. He had no idea where he was other than presumably inside the same forest-not that he knew the name-but he could see bright lights not too far from he was.

He continued his stride until he reached the edge of the forest where he was greeted with the bright lights of a bustling city. The area of the city he stumbled upon didn’t seem incredibly high class and rich, much to his surprise. The buildings looked a bit shoddy and there were some suspicious characters mingling and smoking alongside them. They looked like common thugs. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before with a few good punches and well timed kicks.

His feet and calves ached, but he figured that if he kept walking there must be a cheap hostel or tavern somewhere within the city limits he could stay. He strung the rucksack which was still tightly gripped in his hands onto his back and strode into the city. He kept his head down to avoid looking at the citizens and just kept going. He continued to walk until he heard what couldn't be mistaken as anything other than drunken singing and the scent of cheap alcohol. Finally.

He followed the sounds and wound up finding himself in a tavern filled with beaming drunks. They didn’t give him a second look as he walked through the doors, they just continued on with their offensively out of tune singing. He wandered over to the bar, which was suspiciously lacking a keep. He looked around with confused eyes until a stout little man appeared next to him.

He was short, surprisingly short for a man that looked to be at least in his late thirties. He couldn’t have been taller than about four feet. His ginger hair was messily pulled back and the same vibrant hair seemed to continue down to a rug his chest. He adorned some gaudy gold jewelry but at the same time, it suited him and his red jacket.  The small man looked over him for a moment before grinning and blurting out, “Welcome to The Hanged Man. You lookin’ for somethin’?”

He hesitated for a moment. “A barkeep, preferably. I’d like a room to stay. Do you have one?”

The little man was a bit taken aback by the ruggedly deep voice he had. The reactions didn’t surprise him anymore; it happened pretty frequently whenever he spoke. But none the less, his smile returned quickly as he pulled a ring of keys out of his coat. The small man pulled off one of the keys and handed it to him.

“Room 15. Stay as long as ya’d like. Name’s Varric by the way. Varric Tethras.”

He took the key and nodded.

“Nice to meet you, serah Tethras,” He said politely. “Thank you.”

“Please! Varric, Serah Tethras is my brother! He got some of the brains, I got all the looks,” Varric laughed, shoving the rest of the keys back into his pocket. “Can I get ya somethin’? You desperately look like you need a real stiff one, uhh… what’s your name?”

“Fenris,” He said without hesitation this time. “And please, whatever your cheapest red is. I’ll take it to my room.”

“Fenris, eh? Interesting name,” Varric chuckled to himself as he walked behind the bar. He disappeared for a few moments and returned with an opened bottle of wine. It didn’t look like a cheap red though. “Here ya go.”

“Thank you,” Fenris said softly, taking the wine into his hands. He examined it for a moment then nodded and turned to where he assumed the rooms were.

His feet shuffled quickly across the floor and into the back of the tavern, sneaking in between groups of bright red drunkards chortling about something or another. Soon enough he made it to a long corridor filled with doors labeled with numbers and a few unsavory patrons. They didn’t seem to pay much attention to him as he fumbled the key into the lock on the door labeled ‘15.’

Fenris quickly pulled the creaky door open and slid inside the dark room, slamming it just as quickly as he opened it. As soon as the door was sufficiently shut, he wandered across the room and sunk his front into the rickety bed, careful not to spill the wine bottle still in hand. Groaning, he sat up on the bed and shoved the knapsack off next to him. His legs still ached but he hoped a night’s rest and some alcohol would soothe him.

He sighed and pulled the bottle up to his lips, taking a long swig before turning on the old lamp on the nightstand next to his bed. He shifted himself and laid back down. His head hit the pillow and he stared at the suspiciously stained ceiling. How so many places he’s stayed at manage to get stains in the most unusual spots, he’ll never understand. Although, he doesn’t really know if he wants to at the same time. He lifted his head gently and took another swig from the bottle.

He was honestly really tired of running, in the literal and metaphorical sense. He hadn’t seen Danarius in almost three years of successful evasion and he’s managed to keep his lackeys at bay. In fact, none of them at even approached him in the last two months.

Maybe he could finally take a break for a bit. Not for long, he knew that he could never stop forever until Danarius was dead. But, a break would be welcomed.

The city he was in didn’t seem all that bad. The bar owner, or at least what Fenris thought was the bar owner, seemed friendly enough. Maybe he could pick up a temporary job and earn a few more silver before leaving. It did look like he could use the help, anyway. He’ll ask in the morning. For now, his priority was sleep and finishing this bottle of wine.

He slowly but surely finished the bottle, trying to clear his mind about what happened earlier. After he was sure the bottle was empty, he dropped it onto the floor with a satisfying _thunk_ and rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. He didn’t even think to turn off the light as he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack: hope y'all like what you see bc there's plenty more to come!  
> Biscuit: thanks for reading! kudos are my lifeblood as i write this  
> Updates should occur frequently during Fenhawke Week, then periodically after the fact! We have a whole heck of a lot planned!


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biscuit: sorry this is late i literally just finished writing so its not super beta'd LOL

“Garrett! For the last fucking time, we’re not going to Varric’s run down, shabby ass bar!” Carver groaned loudly, flailing his arms.  
Garrett feigned offense and put his hand over his heart. “Excuse you, The Hanged Man is not shabby! It’s just- ”  
“Carver’s right, Gare. The last time we were there, you threw up on the floor and caused a bar fight,” Bethany sighed. “We all love Varric to bits, but spending our 22nd birthday drinking whatever swill he's serving isn’t exactly what Carver and I had in mind. Besides, the food there tastes like it was scraped off the bottom of Varric’s boot.”  
“It won’t be like last time, I swear! C'mon, Bethy, you gotta believe me. How many times have I let you down?” He said.

“Pretty frequently,” Carver grunted.

“Touche, but can we at least stop by and say hello to everyone? They all love you guys.”

“But every time we ever go out, it’s always with  _ your  _ goddamn friends, brother. I’m tired of tailing you like a fucking dog,” Carver spat. “It’s our birthday, we should be able to spend it with our own friends not you and your band of misfit toys.”

“Carver-,” Bethany hesitated, lifting her hand up slightly before it fell back. “It’s just a little family tradition that we all spend our birthdays together, right? Garrett just considers his friends family. You can hang out with your friends tomorrow and everyday after. ”

“Bethany,” Garrett’s voice went flat. “Can you please call Isabela for me?”

“Why?” She pulled out her phone and was dialing her number. 

Garrett snatched the smartphone out of her hand as soon as she dialed the number. He himself didn’t have a cellphone, as he didn’t really care for them, so he had to rely on his siblings for phone calls most of the time. He waited patiently through the ringing as Carver continued to glower and grumble at his brother.

“Hello~? Bethany, darling?” A loud voice shouted through the phone. Isabela always managed somehow to be unnecessarily loud on the phone. She insisted it wasn’t on purpose but Garrett was fairly certain she did it just to bug everyone at this point.

“It’s not Bethany, it’s me,” Garrett said again, tone still flat. “Carver and Bethany don’t want to come say hello to you guys before we head out for their birthday. Especially not Carver.”

An audible gasp was blasted through the phone and Garrett turned on speaker phone. “You don’t want to come say hello to us? At the best bar in all of Kirkwall? I’m bitterly offended! Varric was looking forward to giving you two special birthday drinks~ his new bartender whipped up something that tastes vaguely of birthday cake with a surprising amount of Rumchata and vodka. It’s fairly delicious if I do say so myself.”

“Oh those sound… interesting,” Bethany interrupted.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Varric’s drinks, Isabela,” Carver scoffed. Bethany on the other hand looked a little delighted to have a drink made just for the two of them.

“For shame! I’ll have to tell Merrill not to come tonight, then! She even purchased a special dress for the evening. It’s so disgustingly adorable and it shows off her body so well, augh! Such a shame…”

“Wait, Merrill bought a…  special dress for tonight?” Carver’s tone immediately changed. The anger seemed to melt away and he sounded significantly more interested in that moment than he had in the entirety of the conversation.

“Indeed! She looked simply adorable in the pictures she sent me! It’s a shame she’ll probably never have another opportunity to wear such an adorable dress, however. But, if you’ve met up your minds little Hawkes, there’s nothing I can do. We’ll have to talk another night then I guess!” 

“W-wait,” Carver shouted out. “We’ll come. Fine. Just for a little bit though.”

“Are you serious, Carver?” Bethany gaped. “Over Me-”

“No, I just changed my mind,” He barked before Bethany could finish.

“Delightful! I’ll see you soon, little Hawke! Kisses!” 

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Carver spat at the phone but Isabela hung up before she could hear what Carver said. Garrett just tossed the phone back at Bethany with a dopey little grin across his face. He knew Isabela would always help him out.

“Now, if everyone is ready, let’s get going before it gets too dark,” Garrett said, adjusting his red flannel button-up

The three of them left Bethany’s tiny apartment and walked down the street. Garrett knew the streets of Kirkwall like the back of his hand, despite only living there for a few short years. He spent a lot of time wandering around when his family first moved there and it just kind of stuck with him. So, more or less, he knew almost every way to get Hanged Man. Not that that was the best thing to put on a resume.

After about fifteen minutes of quiet walking through the streets, Garrett leading the way, they arrived at the Hanged Man. It still reeked of stale ale but was surprisingly quiet inside. The twins both found it eerily suspicious but Garrett continued with his dumb little grin as he swung the door open and the twins walked in ahead of him.

The bar burst into life as a few patrons shouted, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” at the top of their lungs. Isabela and Merrill had ridiculously loud air horns and Varric popped a confetti popper. In the back of the bar was a large sign that read ‘ _ Happy 22nd Birthday! _ ’ The second two was replaced with a shoddily drawn two pasted precariously into place. The whole scheme of it all looked quite shit but, at the heart of it all, it was filled with love.

Garrett wrapped his arms around their shoulders and gently kissed each of them on their heads. “Happy birthday, you two.”

Carver immediately wriggled his way out of his brother’s grasp, a scowl growing across his face. Garrett knew he didn’t want to be there. Bethany on the other hand, gently pressed into a hug before unwrapping his arm from her shoulder. She smiled at the small group of people cheering for the both of them.

Isabela turned to the table behind her and grabbed two martini glasses filled with milky liquid and scampered over to the two of them. The twins each took a glass and inspected it closely before taking a small whiff. Both of them wrinkled their noses at the overly sweet and alcoholic stench.

“Fenris told me I can name it whatever I wanted to because he is ‘ _ Never making this swill again _ ’,” Isabela boasted. “So, I decided nothing better than the ‘Temperamental Twin’!”

“Dare I ask which one of us it’s named after?” Carver groaned, looking at Bethany. She chuckled and brought the glass to her lips. Carver followed suit and they both took a sip, immediately regretting it after the fact. They both spat out the small tastes back into their glasses.

“This tastes nothing like cake!” Bethany cried,  sticking her tongue out. “It tastes terrible! I thought you said this was rumchata and vodka!”

“Oops, did I? I just told Fenris to mix random things and vodka,” Isabela laughed, grabbing the glass from Bethany’s hand. “I actually have no idea what’s in it! I just assumed.”

Carver tried to pawn the other glass off to Isabela but she wouldn’t have it. She seemed to know an awful cocktail when she saw one. She probably just wanted to prank them a little bit for refusing to come in the first place. Afterall, all of Garrett’s friends loved his siblings almost as much as he did.

Carver drifted away from Garrett’s side not too long after the whole drink incident, joining Merrill and Varric over at the table. He seemed far more interested in Merrill’s short dress that looked suspiciously like something Isabela had worn before just… smaller. Bethany continued to talk with Isabela and she shamelessly flirted back. It was fairly innocent, mostly.

“Hey Isabela,” Garrett spoke up after a few minutes.

“Is something wrong, kitten? Do you need to leave?” Isabela asked,  _ Temperamental Twin  _ still in her hand.

“No, it’s not that. Who’s Fenris? Is that the new bartender you and Varric keep talking about?” Garrett asked, peering over to the empty bar. 

“Oh Hawkey, you have no idea,” Isabela moaned, putting the glass down. She grabbed Garrett’s hand and ushered Bethany over to the table with the others, promising her return. The two of them wandered over to the bar and Isabela slammed her hand against the wood. “Barkeep! Oh barkeep!”

There was the slam of a box hitting the ground and a deep voice replying with “Coming!”

Isabela grinned at the opportunity and shouted back, “Not tonight love, I have friends with me!”

A few more moments passed and a small, tan skinned man approached from the back room. He had stunningly white hair that looked too perfect to be a dye job and bright green eyes. He donned a plain, long sleeved black v neck that showed off the tattoos stretching from his abdomen up to his chin. Garrett gaped at the sight of him. He was absolutely gorgeous.

“What do you need, Isabela?” he said smoothly, looking directly at her.

“Mmmm, you know what I want, but that’s not what I’m here for.” She was using her seductive voice. Garrett always hated when she used that tone. It made him ridiculously conflicted with his feelings. “I wanted to introduce you to my lovely friend, Hawke. He’s Varric’s best friend per say and an even better friend to me.”

“What is better than a best friend?” The white haired man cocked an eyebrow and looked Garrett over with judgemental eyes.

“Being friends with me is better than being anyone’s best friend,” Isabela cooed. “Anyway, Hawkey, Fenris. Fenris, Hawke.”

Garrett immediately shut his mouth and stuck his hand across the bar, shaking slightly. He wasn’t usually nervous meeting new people, but also wasn’t usually talking to insanely handsome bartenders with a voice like caramel. So, he wasn’t in his usual element.

Fenris brought his tattooed hand up to Garrett’s and awkwardly shook it. Garrett didn’t release his grip on Fenris’s hand immediately, which in turn made Fenris cock his brows again. He pulled his hand away quickly after the fact and mustered up a little awkward laugh.

“Please to meet you, Fenris,” Hawke rasped, “My actual name is Garrett Hawke but everyone except my family has this weird proposition with calling me by my last name.”

“Mmm, good to know. Is there anything I can get for you, Hawke?” Fenris asked, picking up a glass from underneath the bar.

“No, I actually don’t drink,” Hawke feigned a laugh, trying not to look like a complete wreck. “I’ll take a diet coke though.”

“Sure.” Fenris turned away and poured a glass of pop for him. He looked back at him as he placed the bubbling soft drink in front of him. “I assume since you know Varric, you have an open tab as well?”

“Yes! Thank you,” Garrett said as he grabbed the drink and returned quickly back to the table his friends and siblings were still chatting away at. Isabela remained over at the bar for a bit longer then returned to the table somehow with five mugs of ale in hand.

“First round is on me!” Isabela shouted happily, passing the mugs out to everyone.

The rest of the night went smoothly. Garrett was surprised that Carver never asked to leave, in fact he wasn’t a complete tit as soon as he began talking to Merrill. Bethany smiled the entire night as Isabela and Varric spun incredible stories littered with lies. He himself continued to sneak glances at the bartender who was busy keeping up with orders from the other patrons still in the bar that night. Eventually, close to one or two in the morning, everyone was incredibly trashed. Except for Garrett. 

Isabela and Varric both stayed the night in the rooms in the back of the bar, which still confused Garrett as to why they even existed. Varric offered to set Merrill up with a room for the night but she insisted on calling a taxi. Garrett walked the two stumbling and drunk twins back to Bethany’s apartment before heading out to his car in the parking lot.

He crawled into the front seat and gripped onto the steering wheel, pressing his forehead against the top. His mind raced with the events from tonight, focusing mostly on the peeks he took at Fenris throughout the night, which he was fairly certain Isabela and Varric both noticed.

_ “Fuck,”  _ He muttered to himself as he pulled himself back, starting the car.  _ “This is not going to end well.” _


End file.
